Uncertainty
by Insert-Name-Here01
Summary: Jack was a man who lent a mask to the crowd-he showed them what they wanted to see: a strong, stable leader, calm and controlled. But what happens when Sally realizes, after their marriage, that Jack really is someone more than just the pumpkin king? this is a one shot. I was just messing around with the idea, don't know where this is going.
1. Chapter 1

_We are gathered today on this beautiful morning to share with Sally and Jack as they exchange their vows of everlasting love._

Sally felt uncertain. She felt scared and uncertain and in love but conflicted all the same. The apothecary looked down at her pestle and mortar, grinding the medicinal herbs half-heartedly as she reflected on her wedding day. What she felt was utter bliss—today what she felt was conflict and weariness. The though of another day of work made her want to go into hibernation. Yet she was a busy woman, especially now that she was the town's actual doctor. Mad scientists and witches didn't quite cut it every time for the townsfolk.

Upstairs a burst of noise cracked the silence, the sound of something falling echoed from the observatory tower, a holler of surprise, and a door opening and slammed shut. Hurried footsteps traveled down the stairs and Sally braced herself.

Jack burst through the kitchen door and kissed her chastely on the cheek, "How is my raggedy-Anne?" He asked lovingly.

"I'm all right," Sally lied, though not disliking the gentle kiss. At first everything seemed all right and, for a second she did feel content.

"So do you know how to fix a broken arm?" Jack asked absentmindedly. He searched the cabinets for food. His momentary hunger and excitement had masked the pain that was his broken arm. It had been days since he had eaten, but Sally was too overwhelmed with concern to notice, "What? What do you mean broken?" she panicked.

"Like this, it hurts like hell—ooh, is that soup?" he raised his amputated arm as he searched the cabinet. The hand waved at Sally who nearly had a heart attack. The humerus had been broken in half, "I have to say, there's nothing humorous about this, right?" he said, a ghoulish grin crossing his pained face as he spun around. He saw Sally's disdained stare as she watched marrow fall from the porous bone, "I've never dealt with broken bones—how on earth are you going to fix that? Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm not all right, dear," he informed her, though with the nonchalance that made Sally's stomach squirm.

"Exactly what did you do?"

"Lets just say I had a fight with the bookshelf and I lost," he winked.

Sally's nerves were shot and she was in no mood for joking, "No, I'm serious Jack," She said, closing the distance between them and gently handling his arm, "What are you going to do? You're a skeleton…there's no…no ligaments or muscle to keep this…this..."

"Humerus," Jack helped.

"Humerus on long enough to heal," she looked up at him, her eyes tired and fearful, "You're going to lose your arm."

He hugged her with his working arm, her anxiety not going unnoticed, "Don't worry, love, It's happened before," he said, managing to sooth her a bit, "I'm going to visit the sisters—I'll be back soon," He grabbed his jacket and, seeing as he was having difficulty, she helped him with it.

"Do you want me to come?" she asked buttoning up the black fabric.

"I can handle the old witches," he said, misunderstanding where her concern lied, "Those sisters are a tricky bunch sometimes—they like their pranks and sorcery, but they respect us. They'll help me out all right," He thanked her, kissed her once more, and left.

Sally watched him disappear down the lane as he walked further away from the manor. A feeling of anxiety settled inside of her like the common cold, giving her a headache. Walking to the living room, she flopped on the couch in defeat ignoring her medicinal duties. Zero, who was pacing about downstairs, took the initiative to jump on her stomach. Having absolutely no weight, it didn't affect the ragdoll in the least. She scratched behind the specter's ears, "What am I going to do, Zero?"

The dog merely wagged it's tale and cocked it's head—it couldn't begin to comprehend what Sally was feeling, "That husband of mine…he's a mess," She confessed to the phantom pooch, "Why did I marry him?" but then that little voice in her head always reassured her it was because of love. Indeed, she loved him dearly, she couldn't imagine being with anyone else. Though she would never confess to it, she only loved half of Jack—and it was most certainly not the other half that troubled her.

Sally began to despair for she began to question _who_ she loved—her husband, being the Pumpkin King, had a side reserved for the crowd. How he acted, spoke, and what he spoke of. That is all she had seen of him—even during courtship he acted as the Pumpkin King for their precious time was often interrupted by kingly duties. It did upset Jack that his job was getting in the way of their courting, but he managed room for her and she managed room in her own life for him. Nonetheless, it didn't allow her a glimpse of his other half; the one hidden from the townsfolk—the one that was a bit more unpredictable. This side of his left her feeling uneasy and apprehensive. He was passionate in emotion and then distant, confiding then cautious and withholding, witty and clever then absent-minded and incomprehensive.

Sharing this more intimate side of himself with her had completely, utterly destroyed this idea of who he was she had come to believe him to be. It was like falling in love with an actor and Sally, though she would never admit it, felt as she fell in love with his character. Yet, she worried for him all the same—but if felt as if now love was more of a burden than an intense, wonderful feeling.

She pressed her balled hands to her closed eyes, withdrawing them she watched the stars dance across her vision, "I need to talk to someone," she said aloud, sounding out the idea, "I need to see Olga," she confirmed.

Standing up, Zero jumped from her lap, "Go find Jack, Zero, keep him company," She ordered, though not unkindly.

Grabbing her heavy jacket and scarf, she opened the door, Zero already gone. Outside the wind hit her like an unsuspecting slap and chilled her to her core. She shivered but welcomed the energy that came with the winter's day. Closing the door, she locked it behind her and set off to the banshee's abode.

It was a short walk, and knocking on the door, an older woman whose hair matched the paleness of her skin greeted her, "My dear Sally!" She exclaimed, greeting her with a warm hug. Sally was first introduced to her by no other than her father Dr. Finklestein who was friends with the woman back in their schooling days. Sally looked to the woman as a mother figure while the doctor her father figure. This was not to be confused with the two individual's platonic relationship regarding one another—Finklestien and Olga were friends with no romantic connections.

"Olga, it's been forever since we actually met up," Sally said, accepting affectionately the warm embrace, "I was wondering if you would like to chat," She began, not really wanting to voice her intentions just yet.

Of course Olga would not reject the daughter she never had, "Come in, dearie, it's far too cold outside—you'll catch the flew."

Sally giggled as she step foot in the warm house, "Well I think I could fix something up if that happened, I am a doctor of sorts."

"Just like your father," the woman said lovingly. She closed the door behind them and ushered her to the living room. Being a social woman, this was the most ornate room there was for this was where she often held her guests. During the warmer seasons, she had a table in her front yard, but it was far too cold to sit outside, "How is he, by the way?"

"He's doing just fine. He isn't as lonely anymore now that he has his wife," Sally chuckled. She sat down and gladly accepted the black tea Olga offered her. The aging banshee sat opposite to her on a chair whose crisp red was like autumn leaves. The entire room was lavishly decorated and full of color, making the outside world stark in comparison. She compensated for the lack of color on her own cheeks—not that it bothered her. She just loved hues, "Well," Olga commented, "That sure sounds like your father, alright."

"It helps that it's half his brain that is in his wife's body."

The banshee chuckled as she took a sip, "He was a funny one, back in our schooling days. The kind of boy who was too smart for his own good but not very outgoing," she shrugged, "He didn't like me at first, he said I was too much of a chatter box."

"Well, you are a banshee," Sally said in jest.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Olga teased. The conversation was light and intimate as the two friends caught up with each other's lives.

"So," Olga did a little jig in her seat, clearly excited, "How's your marriage going? How's Jack?"

It had been a year and a half since their marriage and the two were in every way the symbol of a perfect couple. They were loved by all, they were young and attractive, they were flawless, "Our marriage is wonderful," Sally began.

"And any talk about children?"

This twisted Sally's heart, but she hid it, "Yes, actually," she said blushing, "We both want children, very badly but I…" she began to trail. It was true, she did want a family as well as Jack, but she wasn't sure if he was exactly father material. The thought hadn't occurred to her until Jack began to consistently bring up the topic. _"There are so many empty rooms…,"_ he would comment, _"it's too quiet, I think…" _the one that startled her the most started as a quirky question and ended up with a small, hesitant comment, "_Did you know that the term parenthood was coined in the year1856? Perhaps… we can add that to our vocabulary…"_ All were the indirect, sometimes awkward ways that would start the conversation on child rearing, "I'm not so sure…," She tried hiding her trembling hands by setting her tea cup aside, "Olga, as a dear friend—a mother really—may I confide in you?"

Olga perked up and set her tea down, her heart warming at the thought of being called mother, "Anything you need, dear," she was filled with upmost concern for her friend whom, over the years, she regarded as kin. This and she was _very_ intrigued. She wasn't going to miss a chance on hearing what was troubling the couple that, to the town, was practically perfect. They were the very symbol of a happy marriage—or so everyone had thought.

Sally stared Olga intently in the eye, a mix of pleading and warning placed within her green irises, "But you must swear secrecy, Olga, I'm trusting you especially in a time of need."

Olga's pale skin tingled with excitement and her chest tightened with fear and energy as she awaited the responsibility of a secret. Her motherly instinct kicked in and, getting up sitting by her side Olga promised, "Sally, I wouldn't tell a soul—living or dead."

With Sally's hopes confirmed, she began, if not hesitantly at first, "Well…Jack…," Sally started hesitantly.

"Yes?" The banshee prodded gently.

"It's like… it's like I don't know him anymore," she said, her voice sounding as if she gave up.

"What do you mean?"

"It's as if he's split in two, there are two halves that make up the whole. There is the Pumpkin King and then there is Jack."

This was interesting, it hadn't occurred to Olga—or to anyone really—whether Jack acted differently within in the secrecy of his house, "Well," she began, "We all know who the Pumpkin King is, so who is Jack?"

"He's," Sally began, looking about the room in search for the right words, "Different…in ways both good and bad but I'm entirely unsure if I love Jack. I know I love the man who I fell in love with, no doubt—but that was the Pumpkin King. And, well I don't know how I would feel about Jack rearing our children," she shrugged, "He's so spontaneous…and so many dark thoughts plague him," She stared off at nothing in particular, her weary mind lost in thought.

Olga allowed the silence to follow before putting a reassuring hand on the ragdoll's should, "Marriage changes a man, but children even more so. It sounds to me you have a bit of an issue with trust."

"It's not that I don't trust him, he's never raised a hand against me. We have argued but he's never been cruel or insulting or abusive in anyway. He loves me but he scares me sometimes."

"Give me an example of what he's done to scare you like this."

"Well…he's told me things here and there of his childhood."

Olga chuckled tenderly, "Oh, dearie, of course the heir to the throne would have a scary childhood. I'm sure his father trained him well."

Sally looked at Olga, not an ounce of jest glinting in her eyes, "No, it's not like that. Not like the light-hearted spooks, or skin-jumping pranks, or terrifying optical illusions. Nothing at all like Halloween," her brow furrowed as she looked down at her hands, "And he never really liked his father, not at all."

"What has he said?"

There was a pause as Sally contemplated what she should tell Olga. She felt dirty, like she was betraying her spouse's trust. She was sure something like childhood was only spoken between the intimacies of two individuals—it wasn't exactly a conversation starter. She knew she had told Jack things she would rather not tell anyone, "You know his dog, Zero?"

"Yes."

"Did you know he used to be a living dog?"

"Well one must assume if it's a ghost," The banshee was about to take that back. She understood not all apparitions came from the deceased—but Sally didn't catch the small detail. She was too worried to really care about nitpicking—not that she was like that to begin with.

"He killed his own dog. What boy kills his own dog?"

Olga opened her mouth to respond and closed it. The concept of life and death was different in Halloween town. The place was still apart of the earth shared by humans and was in no way a ring of afterlife. However, things that were typically kept dead elsewhere were still able to reanimate and, sometimes, retain a great deal of intelligence. However, which ever defined life, it was regarded just the same as it was in the human world—it should not be taken away. This goes differently with beasts, such as game and livestock, which are eaten. One would typically avoid killing mans' best friend, especially if it was their own.

"It was with the kitchen knife, he said. He was a curious boy then—that was his justification, and though he felt a little bad afterwards, he was genuinely surprised to get his dog back—albeit it was a ghost, but it hadn't retained any memory of the incident. Zero remained just as loyal. He found it most curious and he still to this day contemplates what happened in between the time the dog was killed and came back to life. He wonders if that's the same case with us, and what exactly determines whether we rest in peace or not. He's curious how we are even alive if, in the standards of the more common Homosapien, we should be considered dead or inanimate—some of us aren't supposed to have life to begin with, yet we do, which adds to the fear aspect. It's just so abstract, there's no way of answering any of these questions unless ethical rules were broken."

"Well, curiosity killed the cat…er—dog," she corrected herself, "in this case," Olga absentmindedly shrugged, "I can see how you find that disturbing because it is. But perhaps he understood then at that age that death works differently here than in most places. Besides," she looked at Sally intently, "If you fear he would do that to your children I can assure you he wouldn't. There's a different bond between parents and their children. If you ask me, your husband—this other part of him, I suppose—sounds a lot like a brooding scholar, or scientist or philosopher. They're all the same in my opinion. I doubt he would go beyond theorizing or, how should I say it…killing animals."

Sally contemplated this while the wind howled outside, "He doesn't brood all the time," Sally said, passively coming to her husband's defense, "Quite the contrary—he goes through phases and to me, I feel, it's like some chaotic and almost self destructive creative process he undergoes every year."

She sighed, "I have to hand it to him, he hides it very well from the public." She allowed her self to rest back on the cushioned couch, closing her eyes, "He's so passionate in every emotion that he wears himself down, and then he'll come back full force. He's like the weather during autumn—rainy some days, warm the other, gusts of wind, cracks of lightning. You know," Sally sat up, "We hardly have any china in our house because he's always throwing it against something."

"Oh really now?"

"Yes!" Sally said, exasperated, "It's too much to handle sometimes. He's up at odd hours of the night working or talking to the walls," she paused, "I remember he told me that, as a child, he used to believe a man lived in the walls. He was convinced," she turned her gaze back to her mother figure, "I still think he believes that, I think that's how he broke his arm today,"

"What?" Olga was shocked—how is he going to get that bone fixed? Especially if nothing is holding it together other than the sheer life source that makes Jack, Jack. Other than the soul, there was nothing physically keeping him together at the ligaments.

"It's just a theory—he's refrained from telling me what he had been doing with the bookshelf. Which is another issue; I don't know whether to be happy or sad that he won't confide in me on certain topics. Does that mean he's uncomfortable and doesn't trust me? Or is he being sensitive, I have been letting my tiredness show through a bit more recently."

"Perhaps he was trying to move it? To rearrange the observatory."

Sally gave her a doubting look, "Have you seen those bookcases?"

"Well, not really when you come to think of it."

"Oh…well, regardless I don't see his reason to reorganize his space. He would have asked for help."

"Perhaps he felt you were too busy with your apothecary duties. Perhaps he didn't want to stress you further. It sounds to me you two aren't very well at communicating on certain things. It appears, dear, that you two tend to be on different pages sometimes—whole chapters even."

"What am I doing?" Sally muttered, her voice quivering. She put her hands to her face to cover her watering eyes, "Here you are giving my husband the benefit of the doubt and I am jumping to rash conclusions like some cynical... some cynical bitch," she sobbed.

Sally had the kindest soul and a sensitive personality. She hardly swore, if not ever, "Oh dearie," Olga cooed, wrapping her slender arms around the now sobbing woman, "It's normal to think such things; you're not used to living in a different environment with someone who was surprisingly…different. But you must communicate clearly to Jack, how else can he help you if you don't help him, if you don't talk?"

"It's not just that," Sally sobbed into the woman's shoulder, "He'll listen to everything I say—he returns the favor. But here I am scared of him confiding in me. I'm just not ready for his burden—yet he's ready to accept mine and I feel horribly selfish. I help him out with everything, I do, I try to be loving and passionate about his work and supporting him. But his mood swings, his actions, his thoughts—they're so unpredictable and I just…he's just…terrifying."

"Oh there, there hun," Olga patted the crying girl on the back, "you must learn to accept him and you have to learn how to speak to him _openly_."

Sally gently pulled away and nodded her head, sniffling as if she were but a mere child, "I'll try," she said, though doubt plagued her voice—it wasn't so much speaking as it was accepting the fact that Jack would remain an eccentric…of sorts. It was just too surprising, and it had taken months to dawn on her where the source of anxiety came from.

They chatted for a bit longer, Sally making the excuse that she should return back to her work, "There are orders to fill in, you know," she sniffled, drying her eyes.

"All right dear, you take it easy now and reflect on what I have told you," Olga walked her to the door, "Marriage is a new experience, and the conflicts concerning it are a lot different than most concerning individuals."

Sally nodded silently, and before leaving, gave Olga a tight hug, "Thank you," she said, standing on her tip toes. The hovering woman bent down and returned the embrace, "Of course, my dearie, I'm always ready to lend an ear."

Sally smiled, said good bye and walked down the poorch, past the tables and rocking chair, and, before she crossed the short long Olga added, "And one more thing, your own health is important so give yourself something when you get back, alright?"

"I will, Olga, don't you worry."

"That's a good girl," With that, the door closed and Sally was left alone in the cold. She decided to take the long route back home, not wanting to return just yet for wanted the cold to clear her mind. She wanted to get her thoughts straightened out. She walked down the lane, thin flakes began to fall from the stark grey sky—a sign that Christmas was approaching. It was gift Santa had given the town, and relations concerning the two holidays had healed and remained positive since.

The tall, stone wall sloped down till it was merely waste high, allowing her to gaze out over the rolling tundra and the gnarled forest that crept on the town. A black river snaked across the land like a serpentine beast looking for the now hidden sun. She saw a figure all alone, standing out in the field; his hands were in his pockets and his slender form clad in black attire nearly blended with the trees.

Jack turned his head to find the person approaching from behind was no other than his wife, "Sally," he smiled, he reached out his hand and she took it. His cold boney fingers gently squeezed the warm fabric of her palm, "I'm sorry about earlier," he chuckled, "You've been rather tired lately and that was probably an unwelcomed surprise. On the bright side," A shiver ran down his body as wind hit the two, "It's all better," his laugh was half hearted.

Silently, Sally wrapped her arms around his waste and pulled her self close in a tender embrace. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and for a few moments, they stared out and observed the serene environment, "What where you doing out here, Jack?" she whispered.

"I was thinking."

The wind blew, snow flakes fell, a distant bird called; all was silent till Sally spoke once more, "So was I," she looked out over the beautiful, serene landscape, "and I was thinking that it's too quiet, too empty."

"Everything is hibernating," Jack said, gently reminding her.

She looked up at him smiling, "I meant our house, skeleton man."

He looked down at her grinning, but silent.

"I think we should start a family—," before she could finish her thought, Jack embraced her. And in that quiet moment, the unspoken vow hovered about the winter air and Sally was optimistic once more for the future.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello everyone!

well, those who are looking at this. There are 122 people who have checked out/visited/viewed this story and three of the 122 have given me positive comments. One of them asked for me to write more, and I will consider it over this weekend, post Halloween. I don't know whether to create a story associated to this single short one, or to continue this short story OR create different short stories compiled together (like an anthology of sorts). Regardless, I appreciate all three of those comments and I am glad that there has been an accumulation of people reading or at least checking my story out. I will keep those who are observing this posted.

(If I do create a separate story that will reference this one, I will create a note to direct the reader to said story.)

For those who have stopped by and checked this out, thanks again for reading my story! I hope you all have enjoyed what I wrote.

-Insert


End file.
